


there's bound to be a ghost at the back of your closet

by acheybones



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Gravity Falls
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Artist Sam Wilson, Artist Steve Rogers, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gravity Falls AU, M/M, Mythology - Freeform, Parent Death, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Protective Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson Friendship, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, rated for language
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:33:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26671462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acheybones/pseuds/acheybones
Summary: New York is always touted as the promise land. Whether you're a mid-westerner desperate for a a place where the cow population doesn't out-number the civillians five to one, or a starry-eyed college freshman hoping to land that dream audition, New York has something for everyone. Unless you're Steve. There's nothing here for him anymore.+or, a "gravity falls" au i wrote for some reason(title from "up the wolves" by the mountain goats)
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	there's bound to be a ghost at the back of your closet

**Author's Note:**

> i have once again failed the "finish one WIP before you start another" challenge. i literally have 6 open drafts right now that i'm working on (for 4 different fandoms) so bear with me. and of course, this is pre-serum steve and beefy bucky, because what else would you expect from me? as always, feedback is my lifeblood, and you can tell me what you wanna read at either of the links below. <3

New York is always touted as the promise land. Whether you're a mid-westerner desperate for a a place where the cow population doesn't out-number the civillians five to one, or a starry-eyed college freshman hoping to land that dream audition, New York has something for everyone. Unless you're Steve. There's nothing here for him anymore.

Steve doesn't blame anyone. He doesn't blame the doctors, or God, or his dad for dying years earlier. But, sometimes he gets mad at himself. Not because it happened, but because he gets sad. Sarah wouldn't want him sad. It could be worse, and Steve doesn't think he deserves the pity he so desperately tries to give himself. He won't accept it from anyone else either.

Which is why, a month shy of the one-year anniversary of his mother's death, Steve packs their Brooklyn apartment away. He spends a week packing up the living room and the kitchen, each day walking past Sarah's room without even glancing at the door.

_ She's gone, you fucking idiot. She's never coming back.  _

Steve runs a hand through his hair, and doesn't flinch when his fringe falls back in his face.

When he was younger, he'd cry sometimes about feeling guilty for not missing his dad as much as he thought he should. He had never met him, and now that he was an adult he knew that, that was the only reason why.

Sarah was different. His whole life, it had just been him and Sarah. It wasn't a great life- sometimes they couldn't afford to run the heat, sometimes they wore holes in their clothes for weeks before they could afford to replace them- but it was their life. And Sarah had always kept him fed, and his many ailments medicated. 

Today, he looks at the door. Daring to go so far as to even step up to it, and put his hand on the door handle before he jerks his hand back like the room is on fire and the handle burns him. He steps back away from the door, but he can still feel the weight of the handle in his hand.

They'd been in this apartment as long as Steve could remember. He would toddle up to this door when he had a bad dream. He had laid in Sarah's bed on particularly bad nights while he did nebulizer treatments and she rubbed his back. As far as he was concerned, his mother was a saint, and certainly not one deserving of such an early death.

A year before Sarah had taken a turn for the worse, Steve had secured his first steady, full-time comics job. They had extra money for the first time in years. It's a cruel, cruel irony that Sarah got so sick, so shortly after. 

***

"Where is it you're going again?" Sam asks, helping himself to finish Steve's container of oat milk straight from the carton. Steve cuts his eyes at him when he throws the empty carton into a cardboard box in the center of the living room that they've designated as the trash box. "What? It's not like you can take it with you."

Steve shakes his head and goes back to his bookshelf, deciding what's coming with him and what's going to the thrift store down the block.

"Oregon." He says without looking at Sam.

"Why?"

Steve doesn't say that it's because it's the furthest point from New York in the continental United States that he could think of. He doesn't say that it's because he's finally stopped crying himself to sleep and he can't promise that he won't start again when the anniversary comes. He just shrugs his shoulders, and says "Pretty. Great landscapes."

"You draw comics for a living, Steve. You're not Bob Ross." Sam has a bitter edge to his voice, but he still wraps Steve's glasses carefully before layering them in the cardboard, so Steve tries not to pay attention to it.

"Fury has an office in Seattle, too." It wasn't a lie. His publisher hadn't even batted the one eye he had when Steve told him he was leaving New York. "As long as you get your drafts in on time, that's none of my business," had been the words he used. 

His best friend and colorist thought differently, even though Steve figured that he had to know that their work could be done easily enough remotely.

"Then why aren't you moving to Seattle?" Sam began. Steve didn't have an answer. "Hell, Portland even? A real city?"

"Gravity Falls is a real city." Steve says, still not looking back at him.

Sam scoffs, "It's a town. And hardly, at that." 

He had a point. Gravity Falls was small, with a population of less than 10,000 people. It was a miniscule drop in the figurative bucket, while New York was the entire hardware store rack of buckets. That's what had attracted Steve to it. He wanted to start over entirely. If he was forced to live a life without his mother, he was going to do it on his terms. His mother had always talked about retiring to a ranch in the mid-west, but Steve was too sickly for the farmhand work. So, a picturesque town in Oregon, quiet enough for him to draw, it was.

Steve spun on the floor to face Sam, pulling his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms around his shins. He hated that he was small enough to do it, but sometimes, it gave him a comfort he didn't understand.

"If you're gonna miss me, just say that." Steve says, the edge of his lips just barely pulling up into a grin.

Sam cocks an eyebrow at him, but smiles back. "Like hell, I would." Sam reaches in the pantry, pulls the clip off of a bag of chips and starts helping himself.

Steve picks himself up, carrying the box of books he's donating into the kitchen where Sam is hoarding the packing tape.

"And you're sure that I can't talk you into staying?" Sam says in between bites of Doritos. 

Steve elbows Sam's side. Not hard enough to cause harm, but enough that Sam stumbles on his feet and the bag of chips he's eating from falls out of his hand. Steve catches it.

"No, but you can stop eating all my food."

"Hey man, I'm trying to help you pack light!"

**Author's Note:**

> i'm on [twitter](http://twitter.com/acheyb0nes) and [tumblr](http://acheybones.tumblr.com) if you're into that


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